Harry Styles
Something was wrong.
I could instantly feel it, like a natural instinct or maybe just a reflex, but I could always tell.
The lights were off.
My eyes were wide open and I couldn't see, I could just feel as they started watering on their own, as if I had no control over the tears.
I was alone.
I was always alone.
The panic coursing through my veins was suffocating, I actually couldn't get any air into my lungs.
I didn't know where I was, this place didn't feel like my bedroom.
Was I lost again?
The short and yet sharp intakes of breaths that I kept struggling to take were echoing inside my head along with my fast heartbeat, and I was still frozen on the bed, feeling as if I had been glued to the mattress, but even if not, I would be too terrified to do anything at all.
It had been years since I was alone in the dark, or in the dark in general.
I thought it wouldn't feel like this.
It never stopped.
"Please," I whispered, biting my trembling lip as I choked on a sob, trying to breathe when the fear simply consumed me to the point I lost myself in it.
"Harry?"
Someone called my name.
I wasn't alone?
The lamp was suddenly turned on and it was like a building had been lifted off me, allowing me to quickly sit up on the bed and cover my face with my hands and I finally managed to breathe properly.
Inhale... one, two, three. Exhale
I repeated that again, trying to swim to the surface because it felt like I was too far gone inside my own mind to know what was happening or where I was
"Harry?" Someone touched my arm and it felt like I was burned with a hot iron, my instincts kicked in and before I could even see who it was, I fought back.
I grabbed their arms and pushed them down on the bed, using my body to keep them pressed on the mattress... until I saw deep blue eyes.
Cleo?
She was glaring at me with a very surprised look on her face, her eyes were puffy as if she had literally just woken up from the deepest sleep ever and even her cheeks had those tiny marks from the pillows.
I blinked a few times, analyzing her delicate features as if this was the first time I was looking at her, because I had completely forgotten she was in the room.
A motel room. We were working. Together.
Fuck.
"I'll count to three, Harry." She suddenly whispered and I realized I was still holding her wrists very tightly, it was clearly going to leave bruises behind.
I quickly let her go, pulling away from her and lying down right next to her on my bed, having to be careful because it was smaller than I thought and I nearly fell on the floor.
The lights were on now.
The yellowish glow from the lamp was the only thing that allowed myself to return to normal and breathe properly again.
And I felt the bed shifting under me when Cleo moved, and I dared to look at her.
"What the fuck was that?" She asked, sitting up on the bed and looking down at her wrists.
